


A White Knight and Mischief (Miezcyslaw)

by ToastR



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:39:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastR/pseuds/ToastR
Summary: Xander gets an early morning call from his cousin, but, unlike the drunken rambling family phonecalls usually entail,  Xander gets asked for help binding a dark witch, before it's too late. That witch? One Stiles Stillinski.





	1. The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has just been sitting with me since 2012. It's my first work I'm putting out there. Comments and kudos always welcome!

* * *

* * *

 

“Hello?” Xander turned to look at his clock. 3:30. Whoever decided to call him at balls early had better have a good reason.

  
“He's gotta be stopped Xan.”

  
“Adrian? Why are you calling me? Stop who?” Xander was even more annoyed now. There was nothing like fielding middle of the night phone calls from drunken relatives. He would almost take long with Spike again if it meant not having to deal with things like this. Though when Spike had stayed with him, it was in his parent’s basement, so it wasn't like dealing with one meant being free from the other.

  
“Figured I could say this t' you. Y'lived over that Hellmouth, so ‘ll either make sense, or you’ll block ‘t all out.”  
Now Xander shot upright in bed. How did he..? Adrian just kept going. “His aura's all dark, n' he thinks I don't see. I gotta stop him, but his name. He won’ give me ‘is name. An' now the sh'riff thinks I helped her kill those people.”

  
“Who does? What people? You're not making any sense.” Sander was pulling on his jeans now, phone pressed to his ear.

  
“The sheriff’s kid! Stiles. I see why he's capable of. See it in everyone when m'not drunk. Gotta wonder if not better….“

  
“Adrian!” Xander barked out. “Get me on the same page here. A witch who reads aura’s, and calling me, drunk, at 4 in the morning to ask for my help stopping a dark witch. You can't bind him cause you don't have his name, and he sent his sheriff’s father after you with some story about you helping to kill someone. How am I doing so far?”

  
“I didn’t think this would make so much sense to you Xan.”

  
“It makes enough sense that I'm coming to you. We'll be there sometime tomorrow. Tonight. Fuck.”  
Xander hung up without waiting for his reply and hit speed dial 3.

  
“Wills. I know you just got back, but I need you to come out of town with me.”

  
“Where are we going?” And that there, was why Willow would always be his favorite. No fuss, just ready to drop what she's doing for an unnamed crisis at 4 in the morning.

  
“We’re going to visit my cousin in Beacon Hills.”

 


	2. Jailbreak

Today could not get any worse. Even carting around a dying Derek and being ordered to saw his arm off could not be worse. The full moon was tonight. Lydia was still in the hospital. Harris was being a dick. Derek apparently bit Isaac, who was just arrested for murder. Harris was being a dick. Scott and Allison were using him as their personal messenger boy, and Harris was being a dick. Someone had to get Isaac out of his cell before he wolfed out and hurt someone, but Stiles was stuck in the never ending detention-from-hell. Harris was sat at his desk, presumably grading, but actually putting down all things Stiles. Stiles was stuck gritting his teeth while his chemistry teacher made digs about his ADHD, his dad's job, Lydia, his mom, and always cycling back to his fucking name. It's not like Stiles wanted to give this used q-tip of a person more ammunition in the form of the embarrassing string of too many consonants that was his real first name. Or like anyone could even pronounce it anymore, with his mom gone, and babcia still not talking right after her last stroke.  
That, plus the people Stiles swears have been following him lately. He can't go anywhere without seeing a big hulking guy with dark hair and stubble, and some petite redhead, starting at him judgmentally. They're not really helping him to stop thinking about Derek and Lydia. Though, wait, who said he was thinking about Derek.  
Just as he was climbing into his Jeep, the passenger door is yanked open, and Mr. 'I am the Alpha' is sliding into the seat.  
“I wasn't thinking about you!”  
Derek just stares. Right. Werewolves and their lie-detecting superpowers.  
“Scott and Allison are trying to stall the hunters. We need to get Isaac out before they kill him.” He was glaring, eyebrows drawn down in the way that said 'Drive and don't argue, Stiles.’ Which. He would. He would totally do that if it weren’t for his previous loss of control of his words.  
“Would it kill you to say please, or even wait for me to let you in the car? Boundaries and consent and autonomy are all important things in spazz-to-cryptid working relationships and I'm going! I'm going! Ohmygod!”  
They drove in silence, Stiles managing to resist breaking too many traffic laws. He did not want one of his dad's deputies to pull him over on his way to break a murder suspect out of jail with former-fugitive Derek Hale riding shotgun.  
“So what's your plan?”  
Silence is not Stiles' forte.  
“We go in. You get the keys and get Isaac out while I distract the deputy.”  
“How are you going to distract her? By punching her in the face?”  
Derek roll his eyes in the way that call Stiles an idiot without needing words. “I’m thinking about punching you in the face.”  
Okay. So maybe there are words. Stiles can't help but feel a little bit smug that he made Derek form unnecessary words.  
“But how will you distract her?”  
“By talking to her.”  
“You can't just walk in there!”  
“I was exonerated.” Derek's face was looking decidedly unimpressed.  
“You’re still a person of interest!” Stiles’ voice was now somewhere between a squeak and panicked hissing.  
“An innocent person.”  
“Ha. You. Yeah right.” Derek looks so earnest while saying that, Stiles can't help but laugh. “All right, lay it on me. How are you going to distract her. Show me the magic.”  
Derek just glares.  
“Dead silence. Okay, new plan..” But Derek is already out of the car and walking into the station. Stiles is scrambling after him, and he crouches behind a desk in time to see Derek's cocky smile as he says “Hi.” That's it. But somehow the deputy is already fidgeting and smiling like Derek just asked her to prom.  
Stiles rolls his eyes and keeps moving, but when he reaches his dad's office the keys are already gone. He is filled with a vague sense of wrongness as he steps into the hallway and locks eyes with a deputy he does not recognize.  
“Hey.” The feeling doesn’t go away. It just morphs into cold dread as Stiles takes in the syringe in the deputy's hand, the arrow shaft in his leg. He turns to run at the same time the deputy lunges, arm wrapping around Stiles’ chest as a hand covers his mouth.  
Stiles flailed madly as he was dragged backward, until his fingers caught on the fire alarm. He could only hope that Derek took that as a signal to move his ass and rescue him already.  
Suddenly, the hands holding him went slack, and Stiles stumbled away. They were in front of Isaac’s cell. The door was open, and no one was inside.  
There was a crash, and Stiles’ turned around d to see a wolfed-out Isaac standing over the unconscious Hunter.  
So tiles had to swallow, mouth suddenly dry.  
“Isaac?”  
And yep. Having the attention of a pissed off werewolf was still all kinds of scary. Good to know. Aaaand now he is so much closer, oh god. Stiles' terror ratcheted up at having said pissed off werewolf growling right in his face!  
Then, with his next breath in, Isaac froze. Stiles did his best not to move, to not even breathe, when Isaac buried his face in his neck and inhaled.  
“Dude, are you sniffing me?!”  
His voice did not squeak. That would be embarrassing. Appropriate, given the amount of pants-wetting fear, but still embarrassing.  
Isaac didn't answer, but the growling died down in favor of more sniffing and face-rubbing.  
Derek chose that moment to skid to a halt in the doorway, and then just stare incredulously.  
“Dude, I am not a damn chew-toy! Teach your puppies about personal space since I guess they've moved on from the ripping-people-to-pieces phase, to the uncomfortably-close-sniffing phase!” His arms waved wildly as if to prove his point, while utterly failing at freeing him from his new, curly-haired limpet.  
Derek reached out and grabbed his beta by the arm as the syringe crunched under his boot. “Let’s go.”  
Stiles tried not to feel betrayed when Isaac went easily, when all flailing had failed to dislodge him before.  
“You go. Dad's gonna know I tripped the alarm. I’ll make sure the blame falls on Chuckles here.”  
He nudged the fallen Hunter with the toe of his sneakers. Derek nodded once and they were gone. Moments later, the sheriff burst in, followed by two deputies. Not having time to invent a cover story, Stiles went with the first thing that popped into his head. Which was to point and say, “He did it.”


	3. Investigation

“I can't find anything,” Willow huffed as she searched the desk.  
“If this kid's a witch, there has to be something. Spells, herbs, supplies. Even you couldn't do magic with nothing when you started.”  
“Well, I hate to say it, but maybe your cousin was wrong.”  
Xander scrubbed a hand through his hair. He hated to admit it, but Willow had a point. After almost a month of watching, the kid hadn't done anything hinky. Meanwhile, it had come out that Kate Argent really had set a fire that looked accidental. A fire that had killed eleven people, left one burned and catatonic, and two more orphaned and alone.  
“Let's just go. It's dark already. I doubt Adrian could keep the kid after school much longer.”  
They ghosted down the stairs, out the back door, through the trees in the backyard, and out onto the street a few blocks away where Willow had parked their rental. The light of the full moon meant they didn't have to carry flashlights that might give them away to restless and nosy neighbors.  
“Hey Wills. You don't think…?”  
“What, Xander?”  
“Adrian said this Stiles kid seemed nervous. And tonight's a full moon. D'you think he could be a werewolf?”  
She took a moment to mull it over, then shook her head. “Your cousin said he was more nervous, not more aggressive. We won't rule out some kind of creature until I can get close enough to sense something from him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but I'm trying to change chapters with each different POV, and change POV with each scene. This just happened to be one of the short ones. Coming up next, some grumpy alpha POV. : )


	4. Bad and Worse Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for waiting for my next chapter. Rest assured, I have an ending planned out. I won't abandoned my work before it's conclusion. :)

All Stiles wanted was to sleep. Following up his regular school day with a mega-detention, harrowing werewolf rescuing, and some interrogation from his dad lasting most of the night was not refreshing. The gray, predawn light filter into his bedroom through the blinds as he toed off his sneakers and stumbled to the dresser for some pajamas. His exhaustion was so strong, he never heard his window slide open.

  
Derek had run patrols throughout his territory ever since his return to Beacon Hills. Now that he was Alpha, that territory had expanded from the preserve and the cemetery that housed the rest of his family to include the school, hospital, vet clinic, and the McCall and Whittemore homes. Those places made sense to Derek. What he couldn’t get his head around was the newfound need to patrol Stiles' house. Scott wasn't even pack, not really, and Stiles was human. He didn't need Derek to protect him from hunters. Still, once the moon's pull faded and Isaac was settled in the warehouse, Derek found himself running through the woods behind the Stillinski house. He couldn’t help the alarm he felt upon discovering two strange scents. They ranged all over , but the strongest source was the teen's bedroom. He leapt on to the roof and slipped into the window before he could even ask himself what he was doing here.  
He couldn't help a small chuckle when he saw Stiles, fighting to shove his legs into Tangled pajama pants, yesterday's t-shirt hiked up around his neck and shoulders with a clean shirt hanging from his teeth.

  
“SHIT!”

  
The sound of Derek's amusement startled Stiles into flailing hard, causing already Tangled pajamas to twist and trip him. It could have been Derek's startled face or the fast-approaching floor that made him spit out his t-shirt to shout his surprise. Thankfully, the closest supernaturally-fast werewolf wasn't enough of an asshole to let him faceplant.  
“This probably wouldn't happen if you put your pants on one leg at a time. Like literally everyone else.” Derek didn't even try to control his eye-roll as he levered the human back to his feet.  
Stiles was quick to pull his pants back up. Derek was somehow holding his pajama shirt, or he probably would have nearly brained himself again trying to get dressed, pick up the shirt, and look for his remaining dignity all at once. His mouth was as coordinated as ever. It ran on auto-pilot, letting Stiles attempt to control his wayward limbs with his remaining focus.

“What the FUCK Derek!? No one is here, you can use the front door. Or if that doesn't feel lurky enough, you could still knock.”

  
Even through his rant, Derek could hear his heart slow, see him relax. Stiles yanked on the new shirt, letting the old one fall to the floor. Derek allowed himself a small smile when Stiles couldn't see, until he remembered why he came in and scowled. “Someone was in your room.”

  
“Yes. I was in my room. Alone. And then you were here to give me a heart attack. Great talk.”

  
“No.” Derek shifted uncomfortably. “Someone came in through the kitchen door. Their scent is all over your room. They left through the woods behind the house.”

  
“Graahhhhhfffuuuuuuuck!” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. “I was going to sleep for a year. Now I can never sleep again. Werewolf shenanigans are exhausting enough, Jesus.”

  
Stiles was broadcasting exhaustion with each breath. He needed sleep, and now Derek had made him feel unsafe and couldn't do anything about it with his beta waiting for him. Guilt rose up in Derek's throat. He was barely even surprised to hear himself say, “You could stay at my place.” His voice was pitched low, but from the way his heartbeat skipped, Stiles had heard. “I’m not at the house anymore,” he reassured. “I was just going to be watching over Isaac today, anyway.”

  
“Uhhhh. Thanks? I guess? Not to sound nosy or ungrateful, but where did you stash your puppy after our jailbreak? Please tell me you're not holed up in some cave, or abandoned bus station, or something sketchy like that.”

  
Derek kept his face blank, held himself with a stillness that very obviously wanted to be a wince. “Warehouse, actually.”

  
Stiles could pack a lot of disbelief in his expression for someone whose first guess when his friend got bit by a strange creature in the woods was 'werewolf.’ Derek finally let his face relax enough to glare.

  
“You're hiding a kid who was accused of murder in an abandoned warehouse? That's the first place I'd look!”

  
“And what do you suggest?” Derek sneered.

  
Stiles looked thoughtful for a moment before his eyes went wide. Derek didn't like his grin, as though things had already been decided before he even spoke aloud.

  
“Stiles, no.”

  
“Uhm, Stiles yes! It worked for you. And your pup will never be housebroken if you always keep him in creepy abandoned buildings. You can satisfy your needs and to lurk and be overprotective, with the added bonus of indoor plumbing!”

  
Derek rubbed his forehead and sighed. If werewolves could get tension headaches, he was sure he would have one. “We’ll be back here in fifteen minutes.”


	5. Facts and Faxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry this took so long. I was stuck on how to proceed from Isaac's love, so I skipped to my favorite btvs character! Unfortunately, it's been a while since I watched any are or read any fics with Spike, so I took some time to get inspired.... and fell down the rabbit hole of Spike hurt/comfort fics. More to come soon!

The newly renovated Wolfram and Hart office was bustling with life; or demonic and magical equivalents. Interns fetched coffee, papers printed, and Harmony answered phone calls and ran errands, heels clicking all the way. Funnily enough, Los Angela's last apocalypse had been averted by that selfish blonde vampire through networking. Having the building redone to exclude carpet outside private offices was all she wanted in payment. She said she found her calling as a secretary, and the only thing that could make it better was to have people fear her by the click-clack of her Jimmy Choo's. Spike, who was brooding on a soul-suckingly beige sofa in the lounge, was becoming supremely irritated by this. How was he supposed to enjoy his despair. Even with the help of a soul to appreciate the truly abysmally boring beigeness, he couldn't sink into his bad mood without being interrupted by Harmony's perky click-clacking.  
“Oi! Can't a demon get any peace and quiet round here!?”  
It stopped. Did she take off the shoes or… No. Nonononono. It was coming to the door, no…  
Harmony's curly blonde head poked in, followed by a rather impressive stack of file folders.  
“Do you have a problem, mister master-of-moping? Some of us actually do our jobs when we come to the office.”  
She wasn't a threat on her own. Spike could stake her in the time a heartbeat would probably take, but then he would have to deal with every demon who owed her a favor, and every white-hat who was protective of the latest savior of the world.  
“Can't you do it at your desk? Your big, fancy desk with the e-mail, and call waiting, and pens that don't have any ink because it annoys people who want to borrow one.”  
“I would, but the FACTS machine keeps spitting out alerts.”  
“It’s called a fax, and you could just have one set up at your desk!”  
For someone so bubbly, her glare could peel paint. Harmony was like a vat of vicious boiling turpentine that way.  
“It’s the Faerie Automated Crisis Tracking System. Rosenberg had her coven set it up. It looks for signs of apocalypse-y stuff by reading ley lines and demon energy mumbo-jumbo. It prints, and I fetch and fax the printouts to the right department. And it prints from by the wall, because the whole thing is heavy enough to collapse the floor if it's in the center. Where my desk is.”  
“Bloody hell woman! Get a minion with quieter shoes then.”  
Harmony scoffed, and adjusted her armful of folders.  
“Is a new apocalypse nigh, then, or is Red's machine busted?”  
“Neither. I think. Both? I don't get what could cause an apocalypse in a former werewolf haven. From the looks of things, this whole patch of California was a dead-zone of supernatural deaths. Which is very much of the weird less than two hours from Sunnyhell, now that I think about it.”  
“Not really. I rolled through on my way out of Frisco 'bout sixty years ago. Little village, Light Beacon, or sommat stupid. Dru wandered right out in th' middle of the woods to a big tree. Said it sang with her stars. She wanted to feed it blood till it turned into a hellmouth, but we got run outta town by the biggest werewolf pack I'd ever seen.”  
“Well, all the wolves in," she checked the top of one report, "Beacon Hills, died in a fire years ago. With our luck, the singing-tree has been turned into a shiny new hellmouth in the meantime.”  
Harmony huffed,switching her files to one arm, and dug her nails into Spike's shoulder.   
“Oi!”  
Harmony just started to drag him down the hall. “I've never been to the new hellmouth, or seen a tree that can turn into one, so you can cut short your moping, tell Angel what you know, and then who knows. Maybe you'll get to punch stuff and be the next savior of the world. That's way more likely to get you laid than loitering in my break room.”  
She shoved him in the elevator and pushed the button for Angel's floor.  
“Crazy bint!” Harmony just click-clacked back to her desk as the doors slid closed.


End file.
